Thursday, November 02, 2006

Morning

At seven AM,
I’m out of the door,
Sometimes later,
But often before.

A ten minute stroll,
Less than a mile,
Strangers I pass,
With a nod and a smile.

Few return ‘em,
And most just look glum,
I’m jolly and brisk,
They’re still sleep numb.

It’s a small bonus,
Of working nights,
To go home at dawning,
And see morning sights.

12 comments:

(Ni)mo.Ni said...

Cute. It sounds cheerful, too, cuz of the short lines that rhyme.

The silver lining...:)

Anonymous said...

I like the 'go home at dawning' line and the poem's overall breeziness.

And I just thought I'd drop by to say thanks for all your comments - I do appreciate them.

Molly Bloom said...

I liked the wax moment. I thought it was lovely...and the group of three.

GoGo said...

verry nice. I enjoyed walking through the poem.

Ally Bean said...

Morning as the end of your day. Great twist on the theme. Well done.

Pod said...

its funny how you have a different head on when you are ending and they are starting. if that makes sense. one definitely sees the world differently, though in the past, for me, it has been when i have been floating home after too big a night.

Anonymous said...

I actually work days, but sometimes get up before sunrise to go to the gym. When I'm cheery and awake post-exercise, this is exactly how I feel. I even think your poem is a perfect meter for the bounce in my step!

Anonymous said...

fun...the rhythm of the words mimics walking.

AnnieElf said...

How cheery and happy. I'd be smiling right back at you.

Anonymous said...

how much of life, I miss, my still sleeping.

Anonymous said...

great poem!

Eleuktra Starsoft said...

I used to work nights, Inc. I half-remember that vague sensation of relief on the way home, when all around are bristling up for the coming day, and you're limboing down to the ground.

I never quite managed to get my head around any unusual sherry drinking opportunities though, which, I suppose, goes to show that as a nocturne I was only ever a tourist.